Greek Fire by Winston Graham

Author:Winston Graham [Graham, Winston]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

Chapter Twenty Two

They were alone together in the great salon while the French clocks ticked and the traffic mumbled far below. The room had become very still: and thought had stopped with movement. Time went round them, passed them by.

Then Maria Tolosa fell on her knees. “Santa Maria, Mother of God, Holy Mary, Queen of Heaven, Santa Maria, Mother of God, Holy Mary, Queen of Heaven,” and a jumble of Latin words slurred together, over and over again, like beads told in terror without thought or meaning, just a talisman to hold on to in the void her own act had created.

Some of Lascou’s own incredulity still lingered after him: it couldn’t happen so quickly. No noise; no blood; the human envelope, punctured in a single vulnerable spot, had deflated like a tyre. Gene bent over him; but during the civil war he had seen too many such. He straightened up, wiped his hands on his coat to quiet them. He went to the outer door. No sound outside. Another door, open, led into a sort of butler’s pantry—this way Maria had come. He shut it, came back.

He scraped together the scattered letters, the membership card—a phrase caught his eye: ‘so don’t upset yourself; one stays, however reluctantly, faithful to the general scheme of things.’ The miniature revolver. That in his pocket too. It was ten past nine. They had three or four minutes. Maybe.

Lascou had stayed faithful to the general scheme of things. Gene went to the praying woman.

“Maria, where did you get in?”

“Holy Mary, Queen of Heaven, Santa Maria, Mother of God——”

“Maria, listen to me!”

She stopped, stared at him without recognition.

“Maria!”

Her eyes weren’t even seeing him. He caught her shoulders and shook her.

“Maria!”

“Yes?”

“Where did you get in?”

“Through her flat. She was out.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“There was a little boy.”

“Did he see you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“When I ring the bell he runs out into the passage and I am able to slip in without—without him seeing me.’

“Listen,” he said. “ Can you listen?”

She wiped the back of her arm across her face. “Yes.”

“There is a way out—not going back that way. No one must see you. Understand?”

“I saw the dagger as I came in. God gave it into my hand. Then I heard this man talking. I have to destroy him.… It is God’s will.”

“We must leave separately. Can you walk?”

“…Yes.”

“See that door? Go through the vestibule beyond it, to a passage outside this flat. Go past the lift to the end of the passage: at the end there’s a door behind curtains. Understand?”

“I think so.”

“It will be locked on your side. It leads to the fire escape. Go down that. The last flight, to the street level is weighted so that you have to stand on it to swing it down. Understand?”

“Yes.” Her balance, her possession was returning. She kept filling her lungs with trembling air and blowing it out through her thick pouted lips.

“It will land you in a yard. The door into the street will be bolted on the inside.

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